


The Truth of Us

by Romantiq



Series: Odinsons [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romantiq/pseuds/Romantiq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are never a shadow in my company, Loki. Not to me." In which Loki discovers the times between ordinary moments when he and his brother are one and the same. Thor/Loki. Slash. Angst and tender fluff. One shot. Set before the events of Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth of Us

It had started out as an impulsive venture into the outlying wastelands of Jotunheim, spurred by a recent victory feast and the intake of copious amounts of mead. Thor had gathered the Warriors Three to accompany him into the icy realm, and though his tongue was thick with drink, his mind was clear enough to polish his words with prideful grandeur, making the journey sound glorious rather than the wretched and dangerous voyage it was destined to be.

Loki had quietly held his breath, eyes flicking from his brother to the warriors as they rallied together for their drunken escapade. They had all but left the Asgardian hall, Loki finally exhaling his trepidation, when Thor paused, turning belatedly to him, eyes bright and narrowed in both inebriated joy and genuine confusion.

“You are not coming with us, brother?” His voice seemed to rumble through the very walls of the emptied hall.

Loki inwardly cursed himself for thinking Thor would leave him alone so easily, and stood with his hands casually folded together.

“What?” He looked up then at his brother, his eyebrow quirking and lips twitching as if the thought had never occurred to him that he would be asked. “Oh. Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to slow you down. Spoil your fun.”

Thor’s face broke into a sparkling grin, eyes glistening with drink. “ _Loki_ ,” he chuckled deeply, moving forward to clasp his brother’s shoulder. “You will be the making of our fun.”

Loki looked down at Thor’s hand upon his shoulder, and then back to the blonde prince’s face. “I’m sure I’d hardly make a difference.”

Thor’s eyes crinkled at the edges in tiny rivulets of mirth, and his smile grew impossibly wider as he lazily brought their foreheads together, his hand tightening on Loki’s shoulder. “You always make a difference, brother.”

A small and delicate moment of silence fell between them. Thor’s gaze fell unwaveringly upon Loki, and the younger god was held momentarily fascinated by the shifting light in his brother’s expressive blue eyes. They were happy, almost reverent, though whether that was an effect of the mead, Loki couldn’t be sure. Then they tightened slightly, as if Thor was concentrating deeply, recalling some past scene of their childhood. Finally they relaxed, and as passing shadows and light mingled with the bright blue, Loki saw an underlying sadness, made bare and vulnerable for only a flickering instant.

“I do not deserve such words,” Loki said finally, his voice conflicting tones of both fascination and mocking.

“You are never a shadow in my company, Loki. Not to me,” Thor said quietly, his voice trembling very slightly. “The day I forget to invite my brother on a forbidden raid into Jotunheim is the day I no longer deserve to be king.”

Loki could not restrain a grin as he looked back at his brother. “Alright. I’ll go with you. How can I say no to that?”

“See?” Thor pulled away, taking his warmth with him. “I can be very persuasive when drunk.”

Loki’s smile softened. “Indeed you can.”

—

After they had materialized from the light of the Bifrost, the chill of Jotunheim was held at bay by the alcohol still flowing through their blood. To Loki, it simply felt like a natural state, cool and light. Thor led the Warriors Three in purposefully loud drunken song to lure any outcast Frost Giants into their vicinity. They simply wanted a fight. 

It was stupid and childish, and Loki knew this. And he told himself he had joined the four of them in order to keep an eye on Thor; as Loki was the only sober traveler in the party. But, his brother was also insatiable, and whatever Loki might say would not dissuade any of his stubborn resolutions.

“Do you hear that, friends?” Thor’s voice echoed loudly in the snow-veiled wasteland. “We will fight this day after all.”

A group of Frost Giants had slowly come into view upon the cliffs above them, perched like birds of prey, their red eyes flickering against the dark grey of the sky. Then, they were in the air, meeting the icy ground before Thor and his company, rising indignantly, their backs arched with pride as they loomed over the small group of trespassers. 

“If that is what you desire, Asgardians,” the Jotun in the center of their band spoke, his voice traveled from deep within his throat, a dark hollow, almost echoing sound, “then you shall have it.”

And that was all it took. The Warriors Three fanned out around Thor, a kind of habitual formation they had all fallen into after years of getting into daring brawls, both provoked and unexpected.

Thor wielded Mjolnir as though he could rend the heavens. His movements were fluid and his aim always precise, as he sent the hammer colliding into the skulls of the advancing Jotuns. Loki watched him. How his limbs moved in such exaggerated strength with every swing, how every blow he landed seem to reverberate through his whole being, down to his feet, planted in the snow like roots of Yggdrasill, every motion drawn out of the earth and into him.

Loki was pushed back into the center of the fray as he let loose his knives, the blades dividing the frigid wind and burying themselves in blue flesh. He gracefully avoided murderous swings and icy projectiles, the flow of his cape catching up snow into the air as it brushed the ground.

And then, he felt a weight at his back, an all too familiar weight, and he sighed softly, a nigh invisible cloud of breath betraying him. 

“Do you have my back, brother?” Thor glanced over his shoulder at Loki as they pressed back to back, warding off Frost Giants from every angle. His voice carried a note of jest in it, but as the words rung in Loki’s ears, he felt a solemnity in it, an eagerness revved by adrenaline and something else.

“Always,” Loki answered, before plunging a knife into the heart of an agile Jotun that had slipped by Mjolnir’s wrath.

For a moment, as if a lapse in time, there was only wind-whipped snow and the rhythm of pulses beating in tandem, as he and Thor drew circles around each other, their movements completely synchronized; Thor drawing Mjolnir in crescent swings of certain death to any that trespassed into its reaching arcs, and Loki driving knives into the wind and snow, evading stray assaults under the mirror of illusion. 

And then, Thor sent his hammer flying, his body a single wave of power as Mjolnir felled the last remaining Jotun. The prince of Asgard slowly lifted himself to full height as he returned the weapon to his side. 

As Loki turned around, he was captured immediately by the raging blue storm of Thor’s eyes, who said nothing to him, his eyebrows furrowed and his breath falling heavily. As the adrenaline melted into triumph, Thor beamed at him. But, the storm still swelled in his eyes.

He clasped Loki roughly by the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads forcefully together. “Are you alright?” The words were low and frantic whispers in Loki’s ears. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Fine.” Loki returned quietly, and his brother beheld him a second longer, before smiling again and releasing him. 

Thor had suddenly become a strained bundle of instinct and sobriety as time descended once more upon them in a flurry of panting, shouting, and the odor of blood. “Fandral has been injured,” Volstagg’s voice boomed in the stagnant air.

Thor was immediately at his side, pulling the shard of ice from his chest, barking at the others to call Heimdall for their return to Asgard.

Loki stood by silently, still feeling the weight lingering upon his shoulder and at his back. 

—

Night fell as they returned to the palace of Asgard, and it was discovered that Fandral’s wounds were only superficial.

Loki rested on the edge of his bed in a spread of silver moonlight spilling in from the balcony. The adrenaline of the short brawl in Jotunheim had long since faded from his body, but as he turned his hands over in his lap, he could not help wishing he was back in the desolate wastelands, he and his brother, fighting wave after wave of Frost Giants, back to back, never tiring, never ending. There, lies, guilt, and betrayal didn’t exist. They were distilled and dissolved in the wake of rushing wind, snow, and heartbeats. 

From the corner of his eye, Loki noticed a shadow from beyond his closed door pass over the light in the hallway. After a few moments, there was a soft tap at the door. Though Loki looked up through the shallow darkness, he did nothing. Again, there was a gentle tap, though louder this time. Loki remained still, knowing Thor’s impatience would override any kind of courtesy.

“May I speak to you, Loki?” 

The careful voice reached Loki’s ears and surprised him. He smirked softly. “You may.”

Thor entered quietly, closing the door behind him, and shutting out the river of golden light from the hallway. He moved to sit beside Loki on the bed. For a while, he said nothing, instead offering his burning blue gaze to the crescent of moon in the darkened sky. The silence was peaceful, Loki felt, but Thor was not one to let it go undisturbed for long. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” He turned to Loki. 

“I think a better question would be,” Loki teased, “was I the making of your fun?” 

“You did,” Thor laughed. It was genuine and deep and warm, and it hurt Loki’s heart. “As always.” 

Loki echoed his laughter, a softer feathery sound. And the silence returned for a moment. But Thor’s eyes narrowed, and Loki could tell he wished to say more. 

“What is it, brother?” Loki placed his hand on Thor’s forearm. 

Thor looked down, smiling brightly in the moonlit room. “Tonight. The way we fought. The way _you_ fought. You were impressive.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” Loki’s eyes glittered, but his smirk wavered under the intensity of Thor’s gaze. 

“You were more than my equal tonight,” Thor admitted quietly, and Loki suddenly felt frozen. “And I am sorry.”

As much as he desired, Loki could not look away from him. His mouth twitched. “For what?”

“For the way we are.”

Loki’s grip on his arm tightened impulsively, and the storm in Thor’s eyes raged. Loki clasped his hand around the back of his brother’s neck, bringing his head against his chest and burying his own face in Thor’s golden hair. He smelled of oak, and earth, and mead, and grain. Loki felt tears well in his eyes, soon mingling with soft blonde strands.

“There is nothing like us, Loki,” the whisper unfurled against his neck. 

As Thor rose, the blue storm in his eyes seemed to calm, and his calloused hands were on Loki’s face, brushing away tears, running through raven hair. Their faces only parted by a sliver of distance; Loki could feel Thor’s warm breath on his skin. Thor moved only slightly closer, closing his eyes tightly as he waited for a wordless response.

Loki leaned in, and he felt their pulses intertwine as their lips met. It was a rhythm of wind and snow and nothing and everything, and Thor pulled him in closer, his tears staining his brother’s face. Loki's own hands traced the strong lines in the basin of Thor’s throat, as Thor laced his fingers through Loki’s hair, guiding him down against the bed.

And in between the ordinary moments, there was this. There was them. Only hearts undulating, eyelashes fluttering against skin, and hands entangling in hair and memories and apologies. 

Finally, Thor pulled away, his head bowed over Loki’s, golden wisps brushing his face. Loki could not understand how his breath was so warm. Thor settled beside his brother and rested his head in the curve of Loki’s shoulder.

“Tell me, brother,” Thor’s lips brushed the words into his flesh, “that this is the truth of us.” 

Loki lowered his head to rest against Thor’s, his fingers delicately mapping the lines of his face and the rivers of his hair. “It is the only one.”


End file.
